TIME & TIME AGAIN (Error: Not Saved Chapter Four)

CHAPTER FOUR: TIME & TIME AGAIN

He did go back. Again and again and again.

This time he delayed Tadashi long enough for the truck to miss him. This time, following the brothers like an anxious ghost, he stayed long enough to see a piece of cement fall from a nearby building and hit Tadashi on the head.

Hiro went back to throw the cement off the building minutes before Tadashi arrived. It didn't hurt anyone, but it scared enough people for the city to get that roof checked.

The next time it was a crazed gunman. Back home Hiro puzzled on how to stop him. He reached for his super suit and then realised it wasn't in its usual place under his desk. After fifteen minutes of searching, he finally made the connections. If Tadashi had just died because of a stray truck or a loose chunk of cement or a one-off psychopathic case, well--

There wouldn't have been a need for Big Hero 6 in the first place. 

Hiro ran a nervous hand through his hair, a little disturbed. He hadn't bargained that altering one link in the chain would change things this much. And losing the superhero team that had formed so much of his life, his purpose, for the past few years--it made him feel half-empty, like a tin can with one too many holes.

But he shook the feeling off, filling his mind once more with his single, crucial goal. Big Hero 6 suddenly vanishing hurt, to be sure, but what did it matter in the grand scheme of things? No. It didn't even matter what had even happened to Callaghan, not when Hiro was going to bring someone as angelically good as Tadashi back where he should be.

Besides, he'd started this, and he'd come this far. Even if he'd wanted to turn back he wasn't sure how.

And so Hiro spent hours jumping back and forth in time, tracking down the mystery shooter, and seizing the moment when he left his gun in his truck to buy a soda to load the weapon with blanks. By the time he made it back home he felt strangely disoriented, his head spinning, unable to tell how much time had passed. He also felt crushing disappointment, because he knew right away that, once again, it hadn't worked. The garage was too empty, the house too still.

Resolved not to ask Aunt Cass and see her crumble again, Hiro instead began to look for his old diary. Surely he would be able to figure out from the old scribblings how Tadashi had died this time. 

The garage was filled with piles and piles of scrap parts and junk, and he couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen the journal.Maybe behind the shopping cart. Or dumped with the dusty manuals that lined one wall.

He searched for forty-five minutes, throwing things heedlessly to the floor in his rush, only stopping when a wrench hit him square in the shin and he hopped around anguished for a few moments. It was at that inopportune moment that Baymax chose to inflate.

"Hiro, I heard a cry of distress," the robot said, walking over and knocking over a precarious stack of toolboxes. Hiro watched incredulously as Baymax bent ever-so-slowly to pick the boxes up, then, shaking his head impatiently, turned back to his task. It took Baymax several minutes to tidy up the mess. Then he stood and planted himself firmly right in front of the pile Hiro was planning to search next.

"Baymax, get out of the way, please." He didn't have time for this. This was ridiculous.

"I will scan you for injuries."

"No."

But Baymax insisted, and then insisted on treating him, and finally Hiro snapped in exasperation, "I am satisfied with my care!"

Was it just him, or did the robot give him a baleful look as he stepped back into his casing?

After that, even when in his rush he bruised shins and banged elbows, he simply bit his lip and remained silent. So too did the red suitcase in the corner remain silent.

Finally he found the journal, shoved in between an ancient desk and the wall, and opened it, hastily turning the soft crackly pages. 

Five minutes later he let the book fall to the floor and stared blankly at the opposite wall.

Food poisoning.

All that work and Tadashi had died because of a stupid bad bonito.

A flicker of doubt began to tug at the corner of Hiro's mind. If he'd left things alone, Tadashi would have died a hero's death, but now no doubt the site of the memorial hall stood empty, and he was dead because of something as insignificant as a spoiled fish sandwich. Was he really making things better? Was this how things were meant to be? Why hadn't it worked?

Why was the world so determined that Tadashi Hamada should die?

~~~

He tried a few more times. Knocked the street food out of Tadashi's hands only to have him fall off his moped. Prevented the accident only to find that someone had kicked Tadashi in the neck during a karate practise session. Kept his brother away from the match only to find that he drowned on a fishing trip.

Hiro dragged his brother out of the water and lay him on the sand, and then returned to his own time, sopping wet, dazed, and so frustrated he wanted to cry. Nothing was working.

It was then that Aunt Cass chose to come in, tray in hand, face creased with concern. "Hiro, didn't you hear me calling? It's time for dinner." 

He started, jerking off the machine and hastily throwing a dusty cloth over it. His stomach rumbled in response to the food piled on the tray, but instead of reaching for it and thanking her he frowned, hating the interruption. 

Besides, he caught a whiff of tuna fish, and that alone completely dissipated any trace of hunger. Instead he turned abruptly back to the computer screen, indicating with a curt wave of his hand that she should leave it on the desk. "I'll eat later."

She lingered, twisting the corners of her apron in hand. "Hiro, I've been worried about you. You've seemed a little preoccupied lately. Last week, you skipped school so many times...are you okay?"

Hiro knew it wasn't fair to her, yet the irritation scratched at him, and the lie slipped easily from his lips. "I'm fine. Just a little busy with a project, that's all." (The second line was true. The first was not.)

"Are you sure?" Eyes darted about the chaotically messy room. "Your friends called today. They were wondering why they couldn't reach your phone."

"It must have been off." 

Then Aunt Cass pressed her lips into a line, chin set and determined. Hiro had seen that face before, one usually followed by a forced bath or a torturous haircut or a dinner where she sat and watched him eat every bite. "It's not good for you, Hiro. You should eat and have a bath. Wasabi has tickets to a tech expo on Sunday. You've wanted to go for half a year. You're going, aren't you?"

Would she take no for an answer? Hiro eyed her surreptitiously from behind a curtain of hair. He thought of all the time he would have over the weekend to work with the Chronos II. If he could just crack this by Friday, then he could go. But not otherwise. "Maybe." 

Still he refused to look her in the eye.

"Hiro, really, I think you need to take a break. It's okay to give yourself a break every once in a while, you know. You're working yourself too hard."

Too hard? If she knew what his mission really was, would she tell him he was working too hard? His scowl deepened, and when he next spoke his voice was low and harsh. "You don't get it. This is important. Now leave me alone."

"I--"

"Just go."

He turned back to the computer, fuming, the action as effective as slamming the door and shutting her out. Her shoulders slumped, watching the boy who was transforming more and more into a man she didn't know. "Okay, okay, I'll just--"

She left.

Hiro's peace, however, was short-lived. Go Go came through the garage door, and from the disapproval on her face he knew she'd heard everything.

She looked at him for a moment, frowning, as if there were something she wanted to say, but she couldn't quite put it into words. He started from his seat also to say something. By then she was gone.